ish to
make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair. Perhaps that is
why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art not able to get her
at once--I do not know--Acte might take thy part; but can she effect
anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might tempt Tigellinus. Make the
trial."

"I will give him all that I have," answered Vinicius.

From the Carinae to the Forum was not very far; hence they arrived
soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the castle came out
definitely from the shadow.

Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped,
and said,

"Pretorians! Too late!"

In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The
morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their
javelins.

Vinicius grew as pale as marble. "Let us go on," said he.

After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an uncommon
memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but nearly all the
pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a leader of a cohort,
and nodded to him.

"But what is this, Niger?" asked he; "are ye commanded to watch the
prison?"

"Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to rescue
the incendiaries."

"Have ye the order to admit no one?" inquired Vinicius.

"We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that way we
shall seize more Christians."

"Then let me in," said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius's hand, he said,
"See Acte, I will come to learn her answer."

"Come," responded Petronius.

At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was heard
singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and more. The
voices of men, women, and children were mingled in one harmonious
chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the calmness of dawn, like
a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow or despair; on the contrary,
gladness and triumph were heard in them.

The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first golden and
rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.

Chapter LI

THE cry, "Christians to the lions!" was heard increasingly in every part
of the city. At first not only did no one doubt that they were the real
authors of the catastrophe, but no one wished to doubt, since their
punishment was to be a splendid amusement for the populace. Still the
opinion spread that the catastrophe would not have assumed such dreadful
proportions but f